Anna Karenina: A Faded Rose

Recently, I read a poem by Longfellow titled, The Falcon of Ser Federigo. I thought it was neat that even though Longfellow did not write the story, he retold it in poetical form. I thought I would give it a try, and after being moved by Tolstoy's book Anna Karenina, this poem came forth.









“I could a tale unfold

 Whose lightest word

Would harrow…thy soul”

Says the English bard of old.

Who in a different story told,

An analogous of tragedy.

 O Anna Karenina of beauty fair!

Whose life imbued and joy inspired

Whom Helen with jealous look averred

The Crown of beauty to you is earned

And yet with folly thou has spurned

And crushed it into pieces.

 Whose healing touch and console met,

The needs of many by her side.

Her simple words and sparkling eye,

Restored a marriage once despised.

And yet to her demise,

The attention of another.

 And Vronsky with his greedy hands,

Like David took the only lamb.

Pursued her in her daily course,

Knowing resistance by instant force.

He drew the caring-bow to divorce

Her feelings for her husband.

 But once departed to Vronsky’s hand,

The rose he picked and plundered.

“He looked at her as a man” would look,

As “a faded flower” that he took,

And with her fallen petals shook,

The lustful soul inside him.­

 And Anna in her sordid state,

Incurred the hate of others.

Her lovely Sergei she loved so much,

Was torn from her soft and caring touch,

Her daughter not compared as such,

Her world was closing fast.

And to the railroad she began,

Imbibing the poison of her thoughts.

That Vronsky for her cared no more,

That life once precious, now only sore-

The mourning of societal rapport!

She leaped into the darkness.

 Ironically, the place that ended,

This rose soul’s existence.

Was where she couldn’t escape,

The thought that Vronsky would reshape

Her life. But now her ghastly fate,

Lay pictured from the tracks.

For all who read this Russian Proverb,

Apply it to your life!

For Tolstoy himself would gin,

To tell you how adultery ends.

For in Anna’s own apothegm:

“Where love ends, hate begins.”

                       
                               -2016